


Love Lost but Never Given Up

by late_night



Category: CHAOS (TV 2011), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Crossover, Gen, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:03:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/late_night/pseuds/late_night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick wasn't the innocent little rookie spy everyone believes him to be. Not really. Not when his real family was dead and his sister was a werewolf. </p><p>Certainly not when he choose to go after the thing that turned her. </p><p>So here he is, years later, working for the CIA and hiding a very deadly secret. </p><p>Rick Martinez was many thing and before anything else, he was a Hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The content may be a little bad. Still getting used to AO3's writing and posting system. 
> 
> Also, thank lena7142 for all the help she's given me. 
> 
> And if your into BA!Rick, then I think you'll like this. Maybe.
> 
> Well, I tried anyways.

Rick Martinez was many things.

Stupid was not one of them.

He saw the signs that screamed out around him, little clues that showed the presence of supernatural beings in the area.

He ignored them. That was no longer his problem. They never would be his problem, not again.

He wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Let someone else deal with it.

Not his problem.

He’d say that over and over in his head, willing it to become fact.

To be honest, he had never intended to stay in the CIA long enough to become close to anyone. He intended to kill that damn shape-shifter. That was it, kill it, go on a few missions then resign saying he “wasn't cut out for the job” or something equally as stupid. He was very sure he could do that job, being a CIA agent. He’d faced tougher situations in the past and he still had scars that marred his entire body to prove it.

He would sit in old, disgusting bars that he frequented often and subconsciously run his fingers over the scars on his side, given to him by a number of different hunts.

The old, ugly brown scars that would be a constant reminder of the life he would always live.

At first, he had hoped that he would be a “one man show” type of thing, so he was less than thrilled when they put him on a team. With three other people. Three other strangers that he had no real interests in getting to know.

Rick Martinez did many things.

Working on or with teams was not one of them.

There were many reasons for this. He’d only ever worked with Isaac in his life, and that could hardly be considered a team. Isaac was like a father to him, nothing more.

His cries from nightmares were enough to deter him from ever working with others unless he fully trusted them. With his life and secrets that he kept. 

He didn't particularly like lying to others, even though all the jobs he’s ever done in his life revolve around lying. He would lie to avoid confrontation.

Especially around the other three people that he was now forced to call his “team.”

He could lie to everyone, even himself but he knew that he could never fully trust them. Not like they thought he did. His trust was not given lightly and as he went through the missions, the lies got harder. The inconsistencies were starting to show. Even little things, one time he said he liked baseball, then a different time, he said he couldn't stand it.

The first day he was with the team, he was ruthlessly hazed and he could tell they were lying and trying to trick him. He’s dealt with too many monsters that dwelled in the dark to not tell that they were lying to him, but he played rookie, pretending to be completely oblivious to them.

His parents had died when he was about 7, leaving him and his 3 year old sister alone.

He had been put in many families with her, always throwing a fit when they were separated, to  
the point where they had to put him back with her.

It was his 4th or 5th family, when Serah was attacked by a werewolf.

It was a night that would change the rest of Rick's life.

XXXXXX

It was a Monday morning.

Rick hated Mondays. He always seemed to have bad luck on Mondays. Once he had to deal with a Wendigo with nothing but a knife until he got ahold of a propane tank. Needless to say, that was not a fun hunt.

He still had three claw marks lightly engraved on his back from it. 

And that was only one example of a crappy Monday. He’d had worse than that. 

It was easy to not care about the days of the week when it was just him travelling around the country, looking for things to kill.

But then he got a job. A permanent one. 

To be honest, Rick never actually intended for it to become as permanent as it was. He blamed the team that he was quickly becoming attached to, which was dangerous. Many things could easily use that against him, especially if they didn't know about the danger they would be in. 

That is if Rick ever let anything like that near them. Rick told himself it was because it was his job to protect people, friends or not, but that was just another lie on the long list of lies he’s told. 

One he should have left a good 5 or 6 months ago.

The shape-shifter he had been after had been killed months ago.

It had known next to nothing, leaving Rick back at square one on his quest to find Serah or the thing that killed her.

He really should leave. He’d stayed too long. He knew when enough was enough. Only he couldn't truly convince himself of that.

He wasn't stupid. Doing this job, he’d attracted quite a bit of attention from the supernatural beings. Some hunted him out specifically and he knew staying in one spot, they would find him and kill anyone, just to get to him. 

He was just putting people in danger now.

He really, really was.

Time to hit the road. He thought to himself again. He thought it everyday before going to work with the intention of telling Higgins he was done.

He needed to get out of there before “I’m not cut out for the job” stopped being a viable excuse.

So he pulled into the parking lot of the CIA headquarters and instead of going straight up to the office, he stopped and pulled out a shiny silver knife and looked at it, the silver shining on the dim lighting of the parking garage.

He needed to start carrying it around more.

He supposed he stopped carrying it when he realized that carrying it around would be a bit suspicious.

So, instead of stuffing it into his pocket, he set it back down into the glove compartment and got out of the car, leaving it behind. 

He had already scoped the building; there was nothing that needed any attention. No spirits, which really shocked him considering where he was, and the shape-shifter was gone. Nothing for him.

So, why the hell was he still around?

Was it because he wanted the closest thing he could get to a normal life? Or because he was running out of options. He had nowhere to go. No home. He had trust issues like nobody’s business and had skills that were only useful when killing something that shouldn't exist.

To be quite honest, he half hoped something would out him so he could kill it and proceed to either leave or get kicked out, or whatever consequences there were. He wasn't stupid, a job like this, the trouble he could get into, it was all bad. On the other half, he wanted to leave in his own private fantasy and pretend the other stuff didn't exist. That it really was just stories.

Rick Martinez knew he was lying to himself.

XXXXXX

He almost walked right into Higgins’s office.

He was pretty much there. And it was only Higgins in there.

For some reason, he couldn't make himself walk in there and resign.

And so, another day passed on, and Rick continued to lie to himself and let the anger he felt boil up even longer.

XXXXX

Rick was getting stir crazy.

He knew he was.

And he felt uncomfortable. He’d never really stayed in one spot as long as he had been here.

And to make everything worse, the others were starting to notice it.

“You ok there lad?” Billy had asked, noticing him bounce his foot one day.

“Fine,” he had answered, forcing his foot to go still and then forced a smile on his face. To be honest, he hoped it didn't look as faked as it was. He was trying to sell this story but really, his heart was not into making it work right now.

On this particular day, the only thing he could think of was what he could be researching or what he could be getting ready to kill. The life that might be saved if he was there instead of here.  
He silently scolded himself for letting his head go there.

Not my problem.

It was too bad that his heart disagreed.

XXXXXXXX

Two days later, he got a call from an old buddy.

It was another slow day of scanning through mission reports and flimsy intel, which Rick had found he'd adapted to surprisingly well since beginning his work at the CIA. He idly turned through the pages of a report written in Chinese, when the phone on his desk began to vibrate loudly.

He picked it up, glanced at the caller ID, and frowned. It was Isaac calling. Rick found himself torn as the phone continued to vibrate in his hand, debating whether or not to answer.

To be honest, he didn’t want to. He wanted to let it pass then ignore it and pretend it didn't happen.

So that’s what he did.

He got some strange looks from the team. He ignored them and continued on.

His mind dwelled on the call though.

What if Isaac seriously needed his help?

What if he was injured?

What if he got killed, or a number of other things that could happen, things that may be avoided if Rick had bothered to at least pick up the damn phone.

Not your problem.

Only it was his problem.

He didn't notice that his breathing had picked up tremendously.

Or that his hands had started to shake.

“You ok there lad?” Billy asked, looking over at Rick with his usual bright, concerned eyes. 

Michael was looking at him sympathetically and Casey was looking at him with a stoic look but concern was there, lightly in his eyes.

He didn't know they cared so much.

They should really save that care for one of their own, not a broken man pretending that he’s whole.

He flashed a fake as hell smile at them before looking at his computer, willing himself to calm down.

You didn't even try to trick them. You probably made it worse.

Rick ignored in conscience and went about his business. What the hell was that, I never lose control like that.

A good ten minutes later, his phone rang again. At the sound of the ring, Michael, Billy and Casey all looked up at him, then simultaneously looked at the phone that sat, vibrating on Rick’s desk.

Isaac again.

Rick tried to ignore it.

Not my problem. Not my problem.

His new mantra.

The phone gave out a final ring before finally Rick grabbed it from the desk, and answered with a  
“hello” as he left the room. 

XXXXX

Isaac wasn't in too deep of trouble.

But he did need internet access, which he didn't have in his location, a small remote town in Kentucky.

Rick looked around and spotted an old, unused office right down the hall and more importantly, the computer that sat there, also unused.

Ducking into the office, he started up the computer, watching it flash to life after not being used in who knows how long.

“Alright, in that area, there have been four deaths within the last five years that are remotely similar to what you’re describing,” he finally said after scrolling through the pages on Google.

“Any pattern?” Isaac asked through the phone.

“Not that I can see, although I’m not sure about anything before ’06, these records don’t go back that far,” Rick said.

“Alright,” Isaac said, and then sighed.

As Rick started to scroll again, he noticed one particular thing about all the deaths.

“All these cases lead back to the same warehouse,” Rick said, “down in Kentucky.”

“Town?”

“Red Falls.”

Isaac looked thoughtful, “I’m about half an hour away from there. Passed it on the way through.”

“Right. Heading down?”

“Yea, in the morning.”

“You got this on your own or do you want to wait? I’m sure I could…” Rick trailed off.

“I got this, appreciate the offer though,” he said. “I’ll call if anything comes up. And Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep safe yourself.”

“I always do-”

“No,” Isaac said. “I taught you everything you know, and I know you want to get the bastard that killed or possibly turned your sister and that you’re still angry. I get it. But if you’re not careful, you’re going to be as dead as she is. Or worse. And I won’t hesitate to kill you if it comes to that. That anger, it will lead to you getting killed. So tread carefully.”

Rick slowly nodded and with that, Isaac hung up.

Rick sighed loudly before getting up and treading back to his own office where three pairs of prying eyes greeted him. 

“Who was that?” Billy asked from his chair.

Rick smiled, looked at Billy, his mind scrambling to come up with something, a lie that would be true to Rick Martinez, rookie spy, not Rick Martinez, the hunter. Something his fake persona would say, “Yeah, just my mother. She needed to know if I was planning to be around on the holidays. I think she meant to call later, but forgot about the time difference.” Billy seemed satisfied with the answer as all three of them had lost interest when he started talking about his “family”. 

With his head moved tilted back, resting it on the back of the chair and sighed and mulled over Isaac’s words. He knew Isaac was right, he got more reckless and restless with each passing day, all this was going to bubble over soon and blow up right in his face. That is if he ever decided to leave. Which he would eventually. The constant nagging from his mind would get to him. And the need to hunt the howling werewolves would get him. Revenge would always be on his mind. 

Not that he would ever admit that. 

SPNSPNSPN

On the way back to his apartment that night, Rick’s mind wandered while his eyes were trained on the road ahead. 

The rays of vibrant light from the sunset hit Rick’s eyes, making them squint in annoyance.

He really hated this car. Well, that was a lie. He didn't hate it, but that didn't mean he liked the silver Nissan that had become his car for the past few months. It wasn't his car, and it never would be.

He just really missed his old ‘96 Buick that he had gotten when he was 18, and had driven it ever since. Rick was pretty sure that this was the longest he’d ever been separated from that car and if he was honest with himself, he wanted it back desperately.

But he wasn't honest with himself, making it easy to tell himself that the silver Nissan was his car.

And it certainly didn't mean he had to like it.

So he drove home and changed, then proceeded to the bar on the other side of town, an old place that reminded him of the bars he had inhabited in his travels across the country.

SPNSPNSPN

Rick couldn't tell you how many times he’d been sitting in a bar, much like the one he was in now, slowly spinning a beer glass around while trying to fish information from locals about a person or a place or some local legend that usually turned out to be true.

His fingers tapped the hardwood surface of the dirty bar, his eyes trained on the beer in his other hand.

To be completely honest, he wanted to go out and feel the thrill of shooting at something that harmed others, knowing that he’d never get into trouble for it. He protected others, keeping them from this life. Families weren't torn apart this way, people lived this way.

They moved on while he traveled to get a new and different thrill. He never got over Serah’s death; the thrill took the pain away. When he was fighting, there was no time to think about it. He could tell himself that he didn't miss hunting or the stuff that came with it.

But, he supposed, that was a lie too.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days passed.

Rick worked in silence and the others would glance at him, thinking they were being sneaky.

They weren’t.

He supposed he should feel touched that they were concerned.

But he wasn’t. He was more concerned with the fact that they were probably going to find out soon, which meant he needed to high tail it out of there before they found out. Before he got them killed or something equally as bad.

But he didn’t, and he cursed himself for getting emotionally attached. Which was not good.

So, here he was, four days after Isaac called, in Higgins’s office, facing the man with a slightly shocked face after telling him he wanted to resign.

“Are you sure?” Higgins asked once he got over the initial shock. “No coming back.”

“Director, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Rick said, bringing him foot up to rest of his left leg and he leaning back in the chair. “I just don’t think I can handle this kind of life. Not for me. No matter how much training or how much I may look like I can handle it.”

He knew it was a lie. He was more than equipped to do this job, as far as skills go. But he had learned to keep his mouth shut about his real fighting skills.

The director sighed, and then nodded. “Well, Rick, it’s been a pleasure working with you. You are released of your duties to the CIA and thank you for serving your country in such a way they you have. You will be missed and I wish you luck in the future.”

“Of course,” he said. “And they stuff in my desk, you can tell the guys to just throw it out.”

The director nodded quietly, silently trying to figure out what was wrong with his now former operative.

As Rick went to the door he glanced over his shoulder, “Oh, and thank you.” 

With that, Rick left the office and the building for good, swearing to never return, even if something else went wrong.

He drove out to his apartment, packed the necessaries, leaving anything that would weigh him down, he changed into jeans and a sweater, and leaving his suits he had worn work in his closet.

While throwing a few things in his bag, he felt his phone go off in his pocket.

“Isaac, where are you?” Rick asked, looking at the caller ID. 

“Down to business I see,” Isaac laughed. “I’m finishing up here but remember that offer you made me earlier about needing help? I think I’m gonna take it now. I have a case down in Colorado but some old friends of mine called from New York, said something about poltergeist activity.”

“Alright, I’ll take care of it,” Rick said, grabbing a piece of paper and writing down the address as Isaac said it.

“Good luck,” and with those words, the call was over.

After finished his less than slow packing, Rick quickly headed out to the edge of town, making one final call before deciding to ditch the phone somewhere.

“Leah?” a pause, “Yeah, it’s me. I’m heading out to your place next. Have my car ready, if you could.”

Leah agreed to it and Rick hung up before pulling into a Starbucks. Quickly getting a coffee and “accidentally” left his phone and watch on the table.

He pulled into Leah’s driveway and grinned widely as he saw the black 1969 Pontiac Firebird sitting in front of the garage.

“There’s my beauty,” he said, looking at the car. There was nothing special about the car, just an old junker that he and Isaac had fixed up. Perhaps it was because it was one of the first things him and Isaac did together is what made it special to him.

“Yup,” Leah said, “I had very little issues with it. Had to get some parts replaced and fixed though.

Try not to beat is up again or it won’t do much good. And I even gave it a nice bath.”

“You are a god is disguise,” Rick said to Leah, smiling as he opened Leah’s car door to get the rest of his stuff.

“I try to be nice,” she said, running a hand through her short, wavy blonde hair.

SPNSPNSPN

Giving one final check for any remaining bugs, although he was sure he got all of them, before throwing the old bag over his shoulder and grabbing Leah’s keys and tossing them to her.

“There may be a bug or two left in the car but other than that, nothing so major wrong with it,”

Rick said as he took the keys to his Buick and unlocked the door to throw his bag in. “Thank you so Leah.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

“Sorry it took longer than expected,” Rick said.

“It’s fine,” Leah said, breaking the embrace. “Now go, and for the love of god please be careful. I don’t want to hear about your death from Uncle Isaac.”

“Of course,” Rick said, getting into his car. “Say hi to the kids for me.”

Leah nodded and waved as Rick pulled out of her driveway and she winked at him as he drove away.

SPNSPNSPN

Telling the ODS that Rick up and left on them was one of the strangest things that Director Higgins has had to do in his job as director.

Mostly because his leaving was abrupt and completely out of the blue, he had thought the kid was doing well. Apparently he was wrong.

Michael was instantly suspicious, Billy was confused and Casey didn’t really look like anything.

After breaking the news, he sent them away and told them that he wasn’t going to look for a replacement yet.

They seemed satisfied with that answer.

But Higgins wasn’t stupid. He knew they were up to something. He could sit in his big chair all day and pretend that they weren’t but he knew they were.

The ODS was notorious for never leaving one behind, even when they left the ODS first.

And he just hoped that it didn’t blow up in their faces completely.

SPNSPNSPN

“Something was up with him before he left,” Billy said, mulling over what just happened in their office, his legs were propped up on his desk. The door was shut and the blinds were closed.

Michael nodded, “Something to do with that phone call the other day.”

Casey looked up from where he was sitting at his desk. “I don’t know why you guys are worried.So the kid couldn’t handle it. Happens all the time. Not the end of the world. We worked with three people before and we can do it again." 

Michael said nothing and Billy gave him a look that said “do you really believe that?”

The look in Casey’s eye showed that he didn’t believe that at all.

“Well we could follow him,” Casey suggested.

“And completely invade his privacy?” Billy said. “Sounds like fun.”

And with that, the remaining members of the ODS grabbed their jackets and headed out to find there wayward member.


End file.
